


Feathers and Memories Better Forgotten

by QhrystalRose



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Gen, Grian needs a hug, Honestly this fic was never going to see the light of day, How Do I Tag, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Nightmares, Only Grian is really focused on, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Indulgent, Seriously how do i tag, Sort Of, Trauma, Watchers, Winged Grian, but guess who peer pressured themselves into posting it, first fic, that I've posted here at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26960317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QhrystalRose/pseuds/QhrystalRose
Summary: Sometimes, all we want is to Forget. But when we start to Doubt, our past will Break us.Grian just wishes They would go away. Though it's not like he has much of a choice... He'll just have to live with Them for now. But this time, something's... d̸i͠f͟͜f͝e̵r̵͟͝e̷̡͜n̶̶͞͞t̴̷̨.It's seems that our little Trickster cannot run forever.
Relationships: None
Comments: 9
Kudos: 151





	Feathers and Memories Better Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> Um.  
> Hi.  
> So, I did NOT think that this would be the first fic I post here. I wrote this when I was depressed as hecc, and this was never meant to see the light of day.  
> But... uh... I kinda went back and edited it a bit.  
> And then I was like hey, this ain't that bad!  
> I mean, there's already so much Watcher Grian stuff out there, but I'm proud of this! Just my own little comfort fic. :3  
> And then my brain came along and went-  
> ...Yeah, but you haven't posted anything on AO3 yet, and you've kinda set an expectation for yourself, and heaven knows your writer's block isn't going away anytime soon, and-  
> SO ANYWAY-  
> Welcome to the fic.  
> Constructive criticism is always welcome, I'm always looking for ways to improve!  
> Uh, this is a oneshot, but I could continue it if I wanted based on the way I set up the ending so... let me know if you'd like to see that, and I might get around to it! Maybe perhaps.  
> Uh, so... yeah.  
> Merry Halloween, I guess.

_Grian sat curled up within his wings, waiting to be punished after another attempted escape. He’d been trying to escape the Watcher’s for a while now, but they were getting more diligent at recognizing his efforts… and putting a stop to them. He had most recently tried to distract his superiors in clever, prank-oriented traps that would keep them busy while he slipped away. However, he underestimated their ability to recognize the traps. They didn’t fall for most of them, and even for the one that they did, they were able to get out of it fairly quickly, thus apprehending their escapee before he’d even gotten out of the tower._

_Now, Grian was waiting, curled up on the floor of the dark room they had put him in while he waited for his punishment. To keep himself sane, he kept himself guessing. What would they do to him this time? Boil him in lava? No, they didn’t find that one too entertaining last time… Gradually burning his skin off with their magic? That seemed to be a favorite, but they liked variety, and they had done that one recently. Plucking out his feathers? They always seemed to find that one oddly satisfying… yeah, that one was the most likely._

_The Watcher offender didn’t have much more time to ponder, however, as the door to his little room creaked open. He stood, straightening out in faux confidence. He may be desperate to escape the Watcher’s, and enjoyed frequently annoying them out of spite, but he knew their boundaries. If he wanted a less than shattering punishment, he had to let up. At least for the time being._

_One of the Watchers, Doubt, Grian had named them, stood at the door. “Hello, Trickster.”_

_He had given the others nicknames so he didn’t have to just call them “The Watchers” all the time. After a while, Grian had gained his own nickname. “Hello, Doubt,” he said, head bowed._

_Doubt snarled, stepping aside in the doorway. “Come with me. Your punishment has been decided.”_

_Grian grimaced. That was what he was afraid of. Still, he nodded, walking past the glaring Watcher and out the doorway. Doubt followed him soon after._

_No words were exchanged from that point onward. Doubt simply ushered Grian through the many corridors of the Watcher towers, guiding him to an unknown fate. They could kill him and make him respawn, they’d done it before. Grian just wondered if they’d go that far this time. He had probably warranted it._

_The two Watchers walked into a large, empty room. Two more figures were waiting by the opposite wall, each with their own look of disappointment. Grian could almost feel their stares, despite the masks they wore._

_Break stepped forward, wings fanning out in intimidation. “You have tried to leave us once again, Trickster,” they said, voice low and dripping with untold anger. “We are very disappointed in you.”_

_Grian didn’t move. They had phrased it as if he was somehow the one at fault, as if they didn’t take everything from him, as if they didn’t give him every reason to escape. His hidden eyes burned with rage behind the Watcher symbol, but he stayed silent. He knew when he could and when he couldn’t risk angering the Watchers further. Now was not the time._

_Forget twisted a long strand of hair between their fingers. “You know, we can’t understand why you insist on doing this.” They began to walk slowly towards the smallest Watcher. “We have given you so much. We saved you from that accursed world, gave you your wings, and made you one of us. We are your family. And yet you continue to do this to us.”_

Fat chance, _Grian thought._ All you’ve done is take my family away from me.

_“...However,” Doubt continued beside him, “that got us thinking. Could that be, perhaps, just why you keep this up? Because you can’t let go of_ them _?”_

_Grian felt himself tense._

_Doubt smiled. “We thought so.”_

_The Watchers gathered together in the middle of the room, facing their fearful little Trickster. “This time,” Break said, “we’ve thought of a punishment that is… well, less of a punishment, and more… to help you.”_

_“We’re going to help you move on, Grian,” Forget hummed. “Then you can really be happy here. With your new family. In your true home.”_

_Grian didn’t think. He turned, trying to run out the door, but it closed and locked in front of him._

_He felt his breathing quicken as he banged helplessly on the shining obsidian, tempted to cry for the help he knew wouldn’t come._

_A familiar voice spoke his name._

_The young Watcher whirled around, taking a fighting stance, but was met with…_

Them _._

_Martyn, Netty, Salem, MiniMuka, PearlescentMoon, Tomohawk, Solidarity, Taurtis, all of them, staring back at him. They flickered with Watcher magic, obviously projections. That’s what Grian kept telling himself._

_They each stepped forward, closer to the trembling Watcher. He stepped back, met again with the door that was quickly becoming the bane of his existence. His old friends only drew nearer. Grian felt his breathing quicken as they neared him._ They aren’t real, _he told himself._ They aren’t real, they aren’t real, they aren’t-

_When they were merely a few blocks away, they stopped. Martyn was the first to speak, voice a perfect replica. “Hey, Grian! Good to see you!”_

_Grian’s breath hitched. He couldn’t move. He could only stare as each of his old friends -- each member of his family -- greeted him as if it was a normal day. As if he was back on Evolution. As if they weren’t_ _all_ dead _._

_Finally, Taurtis walked up to him, a familiar goofy grin plastered on his face. He held out a hand to his best friend. “Hey G! Let’s go!”_

_“...Go?” Grian found himself asking, voice barely above a whisper. “Go where?”_

_Taurtis just shook his head, further insisting that the builder take his outstretched hand. The smile never left his face. And before Grian knew what he was doing, he obliged, grasping his palm as if he would disintegrate right then and there._

_And he did._

_The moment Grian gripped his friend’s hand, his form g̸l̸į̴t̨͜͝c̶̴͢h҉͢e̵d̕. It crackled and sparked, and suddenly, he was covered in blood. They were no longer in the Watcher’s tower. Purple flames consumed the familiar world around them, the town hall, the train station, the greenery, everything._

_Taurtis stared intently at his friend, bloody hands gripping Grian’s wrists until his knuckles went white. Grian couldn’t breathe._

_“Everything is gone,” Taurtis said, slowly letting go of his stunned companion. “There’s nothing left for you here.”_

_The rest of the Evolutionists came out of the fire, each bearing injuries of their own. Salem’s face was burnt and bloody, Tomohawk was missing an arm, and Netty had a hole born into her side. Each of Grian’s friends came towards him, arms outstretched and begging, blood pooling behind each of them. They were screaming. Begging him to save them. Begging for their lives. He could’ve sworn he heard one of them beg for death._

_Grian fell backwards into the bloodied dirt, finding himself in his old sweater, mask burning on the ground beside him. Tears cut through the metallic grime that stained his cheeks as he scrambled back, away from the gazes of the Evolutionists. Away from the gazes of his friends._

_Away from the gazes of the ones he killed._

_He hit some sort of wall behind him. As he turned, however… he was met with the gazes of the Watchers. Doubt, Break, and Forget all loomed over him, tearing off their masks and revealing the eyes of pure v̢o̶҉į̕d͜ beneath. Grian gasped as the v̨̢ơ͞i̸̸d͡ seemed to drip out of their empty eyes and mouth. “Look behind you,” Forget insisted in the Galactic language Grian could barely understand anymore._

_Grian obliged, then screamed. Behind him, all of the Evolutionists had fallen to the floor, dead. Taurtis’s headphones laid broken in front of him. And above them… more of them. A man wearing armor and a helmet, a man with a diamond in place of his left eye, a creeper turned cyborg, a zombie with red hair, a girl wearing goggles, a man with a mustache. People he recognized, but could not name. One by one, each of them fell apart, withering away in the Watchers’ flame. The Watchers’ voices spoke all at once, ringing in his skull and joining the screams. “You cannot save them, Trickster. You cannot escape from your family.”_

_“You cannot run forever.”_

Grian jolted awake, tumbling to the ground with a loud thump. He pushed himself up, looking around frantically as he got his bearings.

...He was in his mansion. He was sitting on the floor next to his bed, tangled in his covers. Across the room, Professor Beak was looking at him, startled by his owner’s outburst. He flew over and landed on Grian’s shoulder, nipping at his ear.

Grian waved him off, breathing deeply in an attempt to even out his panicked heartbeat. It was just a dream. He was on Hermitcraft, not in the Watcher towers. He was here with his friends, not with those sickening creatures who had stolen away his past. He was home.

Professor Beak flew up to his chest, nipping at his ear again. “Ah-! Professor Beak, get off!” Grian complained, swatting playfully at his pet. The parrot squawked in response, flying up and landing on his head. Grian laughed, giving his feathered friend a little scritch, unravelling himself from the blankets and getting up off the floor.

“Well,” he sighed to his pesky friend, “that was quite the nightmare, wasn’t it?”

His communicator buzzed from the nightstand, and he picked up the watch-like device.

_**18 Unread Messages from GoodTimesWithScar** _

“...Whoops.”

Grian found himself rubbing at the scar tissue beneath his shoulders as he got ready for bed. Alas, that was what he was met with, just scar tissue over the stumps that once held his wings. He had tried desperately to Forget the nightmare from the previous night, but it kept worming its way back into his conscience.

_You cannot run forever._

Grian shivered, shaking off the thought. He had already managed to worry a couple of his peers with how tired he apparently looked… which was probably accurate. He just had to forget about it. He had been having these nightmares ever since he’d managed to escape the Watchers, this was nothing new.

...But this one seemed different, somehow…

Grian shook his head. No, no looking too deep into this, all that would lead to is panic attacks, trauma, and not happy times. It was fine, just another nightmare. It was fine. Everything was just fine.

...R̴̷i͜͠g̢͝h̶͘t҉?


End file.
